


Red Ribbons

by azriona



Series: Advent Calendar Drabbles 2014 [21]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Advent Calendar Drabble, Christmas Fluff, Crossover, Gen, Sherlock is a Squib
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 15:34:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2817332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azriona/pseuds/azriona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione is coming home for Christmas from her first year at Hogwarts.  Sherlock is determined to get her something special.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Ribbons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [time_converges](https://archiveofourown.org/users/time_converges/gifts).



> The twenty-first installment of this year’s Advent Calendar Drabbles – and [a continuation of a drabble from last year](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1079549) (hence the new series). Sometimes I update series when it’s not the holidays, honestly. Today’s fic is titled with the prompt. Today’s prompt is from time_converges, who will hopefully not mind the unexpected crossover.

“You’re a Squib from a family of Slytherins,” said Mycroft, and had it been anyone else, the words would have been cruel. 

 

“She won’t care,” said Sherlock, stubbornly, and he marched to the counter and bought them.  He could feel Mycroft’s eyes on his back, following him, and Sherlock kept his head held high. 

 

“We’re meant to be shopping for Mummy and Father,” Mycroft reminded him when he returned, the bag stuffed in his pocket.  Sherlock nodded tersely, and let Mycroft drag him from store to store, all of the objects that sat solidly on their shelves. 

 

“Ah, that’s particularly lovely, how it shimmers,” said Mycroft, admiring a vase that sat dull and brown on the counter.  Sherlock stared at the vase, though he knew that staring wouldn’t give him much insight into what it was meant to do.

 

He saw the shopkeeper’s hands, though, the way they touched the face, with the tips of his fingers, the way he turned the vase just _so_ , at a precise angle to Mycroft, the way Mycroft peered at particular corners of it.

 

 _Aha_ , thought Sherlock.

 

He examined his purchase on the way home, while Mycroft’s nose was stuck in a book.  Turned them this way and that, and closed his eyes to remember how the other customers had held them.

 

Hermione waited under the willow tree, and jumped up when he appeared.

 

“Sherlock!” she exclaimed, her hair just as wild, her smile just as welcoming.

 

“Here,” he said, puffing, and thrust the bag at her.  “They’re lions, for Gryffindor.  They turn from red to gold and they’ll let out a roar, if you want.”

 

All he could see was the plain red ribbon in her hands.  But when she let out a cry of delight, he beamed.


End file.
